


Falling Pieces

by thepsychicclam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Hogwarts, the trio sifts through the rubble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Pieces

It had only been three days. Three days that Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Percy had spent shifting through the rubble. They worked silently as they started to clear the destruction. Hermione, Ginny, and Percy cleaned small bits at a time with their wands, but Harry and Ron chose to move rocks with their hands.

Over half of all the people who fought had remained behind to help. Groups of wizards rounded up the dead and prepared them for burial. Others helped heal minor wounds or transported the severely injured to St. Mungo’s. Others worked in different parts of the castle, clearing the wreckage so they could eventually start rebuilding Hogwarts. Some students gathered up the personal items strewn throughout the castle and tried to figure out what belonged to whom.

For a time they worked alongside Seamus, Dean, and Ernie. Luna and Neville ran back and forth trying to help other students find their lost loved ones or items. Hermione watched Neville cradling a crying first- or second-year a few times.

George stayed beside Fred’s body for hours. He would not leave his twin no matter who pleaded with him. He was a pathetic shell of his self, like part had died along with Fred. He would sit beside Fred and stare off into space, and sometimes talk to him like he was still there. Hermione could tell that in addition to grieving, Ron was worried for George. He would take George food and drink that he wouldn’t touch. He checked on him every hour. Finally, Mr. Weasley physically pulled George away from Fred’s body and out of the Great Hall.

Harry stood by Lupin’s body. He didn’t say a word to anyone, but Hermione knew what he must be thinking. Or at least what she would be thinking. His last link to his parents was gone; his last surrogate father was dead. And that was only one of the many deaths that Hermione knew Harry felt responsible for. Instead of feeling accomplished, Hermione could tell that Harry felt like he had placed the Killing Curse on every lifeless body in the hall with a flick of his own wand.

There was a relief in the air, but no one was exactly happy. There were rumors of great feasts and parties all over Britain, marking the victory. But there was none of that here. There would be time for celebration later; now they had to pick up the pieces so they could move on.

Harry stood between Hermione and Ron during the memorial service. Instead of separate funerals, they had one large, long service paying tribute to every witch or wizard that gave their life that night. She had one arm around Harry, clasping Ron’s hand in the small of Harry’s back, her other hand clutching Harry’s. Harry and Ron had their fingers interlaced on the other side of him. They were a unit, a continual mass of sadness. They still wore the same clothes they’d had on for the last twenty-four hours, their funeral garb a mixture of dirt and blood. She was not sure who was crying the hardest, if her body was shaking so violently of its own accord or from Harry and Ron’s combined sobs.

After the service, the three of them stood rooted to the spot for a long time. A few people came by to express sympathies to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, some stopped to talk to Harry, but Harry stared straight ahead and ignored everyone. Hermione heard a few people mutter “Poor boy” as they walked away. Eventually Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left, too, and as the morning drew on, the crowd dissipated until it was just three lone figures standing and staring at nothing. Hermione wondered what they would do with Fred’s body, if they had a plot in some wizarding cemetery, or if he’d be cremated, or if perhaps they’d bury him near the Burrow. But she wouldn’t dare ask any of the Weasley’s – they were having enough trouble accepting the gaping hole in their expansive family. She knew it was a crass thought, but part of her realized how lucky it was that only one Weasley had died during the battle. They all could have lost so much more.

Hermione wasn’t sure how long they stood there. She was the one who finally tugged at their hands and pulled them towards the castle. When they entered the Entrance Hall, people came up to them asking questions and making comments about the battle. They all seemed to want to rehash the entire battle. Hermione could tell that although Harry didn’t want to be rude, he didn’t want to talk about any of this. It was all too fresh for him.

After excusing herself and Harry from a squat witch she’d never met before, they found Ron standing with his family. Hermione motioned for him to follow them deeper into the castle. She choked back sobs as she walked up the staircases towards Gryffindor Tower. Almost everywhere she looked, she saw broken staircases, busted statues, or large holes in the wall. She wasn’t even sure if Gryffindor Tower was still there. For all she knew, it had been blown to pieces.

The Fat Lady was not in her portrait, but the door was cracked, so Hermione opened it and peered inside. Miraculously, the common room seemed to be unharmed. There was evidence of a hasty departure, but it displayed no battle wounds.

“Almost like none of it happened,” Hermione said as she stepped inside. “I didn’t realize how much I missed it here.”

Harry and Ron looked around. With a flick of his wrist, Ron started a fire in the fireplace. Harry pulled the portrait shut behind him, so they were finally alone, cut off from everybody else. Harry sat down on the couch, slipped his fingers underneath his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

“This may be the last time we’re ever in here,” Ron stated, looking around.

“Uplifting, Ron. Thanks,” Hermione said dryly.

“I’m surprised it held together so well without us here. I figured with all the torturing and beating, everyone would have torn apart the Tower, too.”

“Ron, what are you talking about?” Hermione asked. She dropped into one of the armchairs by the fire.

“I don’t know.” Ron studied a canvas on the wall with interest. “I’ve never noticed this before.”

“It was here the first day of our first year.”

“Really? Interesting.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned towards Harry. He hadn’t spoken in a long time. He was staring into the fire, a million miles away.

“Harry?” she said softly. He blinked and turned his face towards her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said after a few minutes. “Just…”

“I feel exactly the same way.” She went and joined him on the couch. She placed a chaste kiss on his lips. “I think what we all need is a hot bath. Wash the last couple days off of us.”

“Good idea.” He smiled sadly. They went up the stairs towards the boy’s bathroom. Hermione didn’t want to leave them, didn’t feel like being alone, so she went with them. It looked just like the girl’s bathroom. They went into three separate shower stalls. Hermione was still pulling off her clothes when she heard the other two showers start. When she stepped under the spray, she lifted her face and let it completely cover her head and drench her body. The water felt heavenly against her grimy skin.

Ron started singing a few minutes later; Harry immediately joined him.

“Sing in the shower together often?” Hermione laughed.

“Shut up,” Ron said, then started singing again.

“This would have been weird a year ago,” Harry mused.

“Now it just feels…” Ron started.

“Normal,” Hermione finished. Harry and Ron started their song again. Even though they had lived together at Grimmauld Place and then shared a tent for months, she had never exactly been so close to a naked Ron and Harry before. It was slightly odd, mainly because she couldn’t get her mind off of the two naked guys in the next stalls. It was honestly a nice distraction from all the thoughts of the last day.

She had kissed them both. She kissed Harry first because it seemed simpler. They were in the library and were browsing through the stacks. Ron was with Lavender and Hermione was trying to forget about the smug look on her face and how much she wanted to wipe that smug face with a well-placed hex. But instead, she hung out in the library with Harry.

They were doing research for one of McGonagall’s essays. Harry pointed to a passage inside the book he’d been browsing. “This might work.”

She read what he pointed out and then nodded, impressed. “This is good, Harry.” He looked pleased.

“Thanks.”

They thumbed through books for about another hour. Then finally Harry leaned against Hermione.

“My brain hurts.”

“No, it doesn’t. Your brain can’t actually hurt.”

“Maybe yours,” he answered dryly.

“Poor baby.” She patted his cheek. He looked up at her, light from the torches glinting off his glasses. He was a heavy weight on her shoulder, his body causing hers to sag lightly. It was comfortable between them. She never really looked at him as anything but her Harry, but in the dim light of the library, everything between them seemed amplified. She didn’t know where she ended and Harry began, and somewhere among them (and as much as she hated him right then), Ron was melded into them also.

She felt a rush of emotion towards Harry; he looked so small and almost childlike leaning against her. She tipped her head and pressed her lips against Harry’s. It was odd, kissing Harry, but it felt right. His lips were wet, his cheeks smooth, unlike Viktor whose lips had been chapped and whose face had been prickly. Harry leaned into her more, opening his mouth and sliding his tongue nervously inside her mouth. Feeling Harry’s tongue inside her mouth, lips against her own, and his body so close made her realize how much he meant to her, and how she now felt like she was fully sharing part of herself with him.

When they stopped kissing, Harry’s cheeks were pink and he had a slight smile on his face. She knew that the kiss didn’t mean that anything was changing between them – they wouldn’t become a couple or anything like that – but she knew that something had shifted into place that had been preparing for years.

But kissing Ron had always seemed a problem. They just never seemed to synch up at the same time. Hermione had wanted to kiss Ron as many times as she had wanted to punch him. She also knew that there were times Ron wanted to kiss her (and more than that, the little randy git), but those times were always when Hermione wanted to punch him or the world was falling apart around them.

Their first kiss was wonderful in its spontaneity, sexy in the urgency of the moment. She thought she or Ron was probably going to die, and she would be damned if she was going to die without kissing him first. Death Eaters were tearing up Hogwarts, but a girl had her priorities.

But in the aftermath, she wasn’t sure if the kiss counted. They weren’t going to die, Harry didn’t die, and things would eventually be okay. Hermione wasn’t foolish enough to believe that they’d all be great just because Voldemort was dead. She had realized that much from standing in the Great Hall among the mess. She saw in the face of every Weasley that they would probably never get over the death of Fred, and the loss of Lupin and Tonks would be a hole in their lives (especially Harry’s) for a long time. So, how could she think of something as superfluous as a kiss?

She turned off her shower. Harry and Ron were still singing together, so she wrung the water out of her hair and hurried out of the bathroom. She ran into the nearest dormitory and rummaged through trunks for towels and some extra clean clothes. She figured at this point, no one would care if she was borrowing their clothes. She pulled a pair of pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt on, and grabbed a couple more pairs of bottoms, t-shirts, and towels. She returned to the bathroom.

“I found some clothes and towels,” she called into the bathroom. “I’m leaving them on a sink.”

“Thanks,” they said in unison.

She made her way down to the common room and sat on the couch. The fire was still burning strong. She toweled her hair dry. She knew it was going to dry in a large frizz, but at least she was clean. A few minutes later, Harry and Ron came down the stairs, laughing. She turned and watched them, glad to see Harry in better spirits.

“Thanks for the clothes,” Ron said.

“At least yours fit.” Harry pointed awkwardly at his pants, which were at least a size too small. Hermione laughed and tried to keep her eyes from where they wanted to drift.

They dropped beside her on the couch. Ron grabbed her and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly. It was unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. She closed her eyes and relaxed into his embrace. She felt Harry shift on his side of the couch. Ron lifted her chin with his finger and she opened her eyes as he kissed her. A real kiss – slow, deliberate. This time she knew it was for real.

“I…I think I’m gonna head back down,” Harry said, getting up. He looked at Ron and Hermione uncomfortably. Hermione glanced at Ron, and he nodded. He reached out, grabbed Harry’s hand, and tugged him back down onto the couch, basically on top of them both. Hermione laughed and turned her face towards Harry. She couldn’t reach his face, so she placed a kiss underneath his chin while Ron kissed his mouth.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Ron said. Harry grinned at them and looked from Ron to Hermione like he wasn’t sure who to kiss first. Hermione was glad to see him distracted, his mind off of war and death. Soon they’d have to go back and face reality again, but closed up in the Gryffindor Tower, she felt like they were in another world away from everything that had happened.

They shifted so everyone could fit on the couch. Ron lay back against the arm, and Hermione got on her knees, facing him. She crawled towards him, trying not to laugh at the look on his face. He looked like Christmas had just come early. He reached out and cupped her cheeks while meeting her for a kiss. Harry wrapped his arms around her from behind, nuzzling his nose against her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut. His lips started brushing against her neck softly as Ron’s worked against her mouth. She was surrounded by sensation.

Ron slipped his hands underneath her sweatshirt and scratched his nails across her stomach. Harry kissed his way across her ear and cheek, and she turned her head to meet his mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron pull his shirt over his head and then watch, his eyes large and glued to them. His tongue darted out and licked his lips. She pressed her palm against the bulge in Ron’s trousers. He sort of grunted as she kneaded her hand against him.

Her mouth was tingling from kissing Harry with Ron in such close proximity. Turning back towards Ron, she worked on his fly as he slid his hands further under her shirt, brushing his fingertips across her breasts. Her breathing was now coming very fast. Harry pressed closer to her, leaning over her shoulder to watch as she pulled Ron’s cock free of his boxers. Ron met Harry’s eyes over her shoulder, and she felt a warmth spreading through her as they stared at each other, smiles across their lips, Ron’s fingers playing with her nipples and Harry’s hands awkwardly toying with the waist of her pajamas. She pushed back against Harry encouragingly, and he slipped his hand inside.

Hermione leaned down and flicked the tip of Ron’s cock experimentally with her tongue. Ron’s hips bucked off the couch, and Hermione covered his cock with her mouth. Harry’s hand was frozen just inside her pajamas, his breath shallow near her ear. Ron extended a hand and touched Harry’s cheek, and she felt Harry turn his face into Ron’s open palm. Harry dipped his hand deeper, fingers against her clit. She moaned around Ron’s cock, and he fisted his hand in her hair as Harry circled his fingers around her clit. Then Harry moved his hand deeper still, slipping one finger tentatively inside her. She threw her head back and moaned, pushing back against Harry’s fingers because she needed _more now_. She glanced at Ron, who was watching with a hungry look on his face. He started fisting his own cock, and she finally continued sucking his cock with the same rhythm as his hand.

Harry jerked down her pajama bottoms, pushed against her then thrust inside. She let out a little gasp, and he thrust again slower, almost tenderly. She took a deep breath, the surprise wearing off, and clenched her hand in Ron’s t-shirt, tugging him towards her. She wanted him close, wanted to feel his mouth and tongue as Harry fucked her from behind. She wanted to be surrounded by them in every possible way. Ron and Harry’s hands roamed her body, both coming together at her breasts. She didn’t know which boy had which breast, but the two hands touching her felt different. She knew that later she’d have to figure out which hand belonged to which boy.

Ron turned his head to the side and rose up over her shoulder to kiss Harry. Hermione cocked her head to the side and watched them, watched the glimpses of pink tongues between pink lips. Leaning closer, she joined the kiss, the three of them a bit awkward together as they intermingled tongues and lips without caring which belonged to whom. Harry fucked her harder, and Ron reached between her legs to touch her clit. She didn’t know that she could feel this much, had never been this aroused in all her years of wanking.

When Harry pulled out of her, she felt hollow and cheated, but she took the time to catch her breath and fully strip her clothes off. Harry and Ron were gripping one another, all hands and tongues and lips and teeth, and Hermione stretched against the other arm of the couch, watching. They were so beautiful together, so perfect. They looked so different pressed fully naked against one another. It made sense to Hermione like Arithmancy or Ancient Runes did – something not everyone could understand, but something she knew naturally. They were her boys, and they were perfect together.

She saw them wrap their fingers around each others cocks, kissing and fisting each other erratically. She wanted to be part of them, wanted to be touched, could feel her cunt throbbing, but she dared not disturb them. Instead, she slipped her own hand between her legs. Touching herself while watching them was almost as good as when Harry fucked her.

Harry kissed across Ron’s cheek and down his neck, sinking his teeth into the tendons. Ron jerked against him, muffled sounds from his lips as Harry worried the flesh with his teeth. Ron opened his eyes and stared at Hermione on the other side of the couch, and Hermione felt it was the oddest sensation, mutually watching each other. Ron must have thought so too, because he pushed Harry back and moved past him, catching his lips in another kiss as he passed. He then draped himself over Hermione, every part of his naked body touching hers, and Hermione could already see a bruise forming where Harry’s mouth had been on Ron’s neck.

Harry wrapped his arms around Ron from behind, dropping kisses across his shoulders and back. Ron looked down at Hermione and smiled as he nudged her legs apart with his knees. She was slightly nervous, because she never thought she’d be having sex with both Harry and Ron at the same time, and the idea of having Ron inside her so soon after Harry was almost too much. Ron slid inside with more ease and slower than Harry had, and she noted with academic interest that he was bigger than Harry was.

Ron fucked her with an almost languid pace, instead of the hard passionate way Harry had. She didn’t prefer one to the other, just as she didn’t prefer one boy to the other. Harry’s hand was somewhere behind Ron, and her mind only just realized what he was probably doing, and that turned her on even more. Ron’s face looked almost strained, like he was in deep concentration. Harry was murmuring against his ear, his arm moving back and forth in a steady rhythm. Then she saw Harry move his arm and Ron stopped as Harry pushed against him. Ron’s face scrunched in pain then he breathed and moaned at the same time. Harry moved back again slowly, then forward, and after a few moments Ron started thrusting in time with Harry.

“Fuck,” he muttered against Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione looked up at Harry, his face much like Ron’s, a mixture of pleasure and surprise. She extended her arm, curling her fingers around his neck and pulling him down to her mouth. Ron’s fingers were gripping Hermione’s hip roughly, digging into her skin so hard that she knew she’d have a bruise to match her bruises from the battle the next day. She felt another set of fingers cover Ron’s as Harry dropped his hand and interlaced their fingers. She felt Harry’s other hand against Ron’s hip.

When Hermione came, she kissed Harry over Ron’s shoulder as her fingers clenched in both their sweaty hair. Ron murmured endearments and kisses against her ear as she thrust her hips roughly against his, riding out her orgasm until she was nothing but a limp mess. She watched them, content and her body warm and humming, Ron still pushing inside of her in time with Harry thrusting into him. Ron craned his head around, kissed Harry deeply, arm raised and fingers lost somewhere in the mass of messy black hair. Harry gripped Ron’s hip with one of his arms, the other wrapped around his chest and holding him close. Ron came first, crushing Harry’s mouth so close that Hermione thought they would disappear inside one another. He dropped against her, holding himself up with his elbows as he kissed her and Harry continued fucking him. Ron’s softening cock was a warm, comfortable weight inside her. Finally, Harry stilled, as far inside Ron as he could go, forehead between his shoulder blades as he muttered words against his skin and came.

Harry pulled out of Ron and sat up as Ron nudged Hermione over. Ron lay on his back, head resting on the arm of the couch. Hermione stretched out along his body, while Harry fit his small frame in the space between Ron and the back of the couch. Harry laid his head on Ron’s shoulder, and Hermione lay against his chest facing Harry. Ron’s hands were lost in both their hair. She smiled at Harry, who leaned forward and kissed her.

Soon, they would have to leave the security of the couch, of each other’s arms and Gryffindor Tower to return to the aftermath. Harry’s eyes would take on that haunted look again, and Hermione and Ron would have to keep Harry - and each other - from giving into despair. The time would come when just touching the other two wouldn’t be enough, but for now, it was the most natural thing that Hermione could imagine happening. Now the last piece had fallen into place between the three of them. And it seemed to be the only comfort they had.

For now, they would lay like that together, one continual mass of bodies, not sure where one ended and the other began. Because all that truly mattered was together on that small, tattered couch, and everything else could just wait.

-fin  



End file.
